Season of Change

Long time no see. March is the season of change for many expats in South Korea. It marks the beginning of a new school year and the ending of many teaching contracts. The bars are doubly packed with both freshman teachers fresh off a plane and veterans vying for one last beer before taking off to parts unknown. Compound this with the usual influx of military recruits and Samsung workers, you'll likely be meeting three new people for every one you say goodbye to. 

March is the season of change and it hits hard. It hits you in your wallet after your seventh going-away party, hits you in your stress receptors as new students grace your classroom (heaven help you if they are three-year-olds who have never seen a foreigner before), and it shrinks your social network. Even for those of us staying, March can be rough.

I've had several classes and responsibilities added to my workload this semester since, I was told, the director was beyond pleased with my work teaching English. Unfortunately, this doesn't mean my salary has increased. Only my downtime has decreased, by quite a bit, as has my sanity some days. Also, one of my side jobs has been scaled back quite a bit and I've lost a source of income, adding to my stress as I count pennies (Wonnies?) and refresh my student loan statements online. But then a warm day comes, one where I don't need to even wear a jacket, and I just kind of forget about it. 

I'm hoping that April will be back to business as usual and I can re-establish a daily routine. Maybe I'll even update this blog once a week! (...maybe.)

Happy season of change to you and yours, wherever they may have gone.

Teaching In Korea

There are plenty of blogs out there about what type of job to look for. And I'm going to be one of them:

1) If you use a recruiter, do NOT let them pressure you into signing for any job. I was hounded by my first recruiting agent to take a job I didn't want and cut him loose. They're making money off landing your butt in a school, don't forget that. While many recruiters are great, there are those who are in it for the money and just want to place you as fast as possible. And if you find out a recruiter is lying about anything--how to get a visa, how health insurance works, standard number of sick days, that everyone in Korea is losing their English teaching job and you should be grateful for the shitty one he just presented you--forget it. If you don't use a recruiter, a safer bet than Craigslist or Dave'sESL is to find someone advertising their own job, looking for their own replacement. Chances are, if they're helping out their school like that, it was a nice gig.

2) Even before you know what you want out of a job, join a Facebook group for the area you want to teach, preferably a job-seeking one. Keep an eye on salaries and benefits offered, criteria schools are looking for, etc, so you know what the industry 'standard' is.

3) Research the ever-loving crap out of your school and the city you're going to be living in. Ask on Facebook if anyone has worked there before or lived in that city. A recruiter will likely give you the email of an English teacher working there if you ask nicely, but there's always the very slight chance that teacher is telling you everything you want to hear because if you take up her contract, she gets to leave a shithole of a school. And then you're the one stuck.

4) Gather your 'documents' before you even decide for sure that you want to go to Korea. It's a long process--and different every year for every nation, so I'm not even going to bother listing them--and you don't want to be left out in the rain if a really nice position comes along and the school goes with another candidate because you didn't have something notarized.  

5) If something seems fishy, inconsistent, or you have just a bad feeling about something... Go with your gut. You're moving half way around the world; don't risk it. You will find another job, one that makes you eager to get on that plane.

I don't really know what to say about my job in Korea. I can give you the facts; I work 9:30 - 5:30 Monday through Friday in a private kindergarten. My students are between the ages of three and six, and I have about 80% of their names memorized, so that's like 60 kids right there. I teach English and, as just sort of happens with this age group, I also teach how to be a functioning human being on a basic level where blowing noses and cleaning off tables is concerned. I teach twenty-two regular classes per week along with one cooking class and six special extra English tutoring classes. On Fridays, I could be doing anything from leading four basic yoga classes to chaperoning a field trip or helping cook kimchi or cut birthday cake. 

You should know that I'm not so passionate about my job as to stay at it for years and years, but I am damned good at it. 

However, I'm not paid to be passionate. I'm paid to be in the school from 9:30 - 5:30 regardless if my butt is merely warming a desk chair. (This is a big part of work in Korea for foreign teachers. Your butt will be so good at sitting by the time you leave that you should just try out for the Olympics.) I'm paid to make my own lesson plans, follow directions, and not offer a dissenting opinion. In return, I have an apartment that is only kind of shitty with no rent to pay, free tasty lunch, and a boss that pays me on time and doesn't deign to interact with me beyond a few pleasant greetings as she doesn't speak English very well. All in all, I've gotten a pretty solid deal and I'm pleased.

This is the way teaching English works in Korea; there is no cookie cutter for schools, public or private. As many different directors and principals as there are, that's how many different types of schools you will come across. Some of my friends work four hours a day and have all of the material prepared for them, and outside of report cards there's little paperwork. Some of my friends have bosses who work them sixty hours a week. Some have even had bosses scam them and nearly get them deported out of South Korea. Some people work in amazing schools where they're treated as educators with equal skills and talent to bring to the table. You just never know what you're going to get unless you inherit the job from a friend.

On the flip side of that coin, the schools get what they pay for. Most of the English teachers here are not teachers. If you want to become an English teacher in South Korea, you must be a native speaker, have a clean background check, a bachelor's degree in anything, and a pulse. Being a white, young female helps a lot, too. (If you have more qualifications and experience beyond this, you can find a school more to your liking or negotiate for a higher pay. However, as of 2014, if you make 2.4 million won or more, your tax gets hiked up from 3% to 15% so be careful when you sign that contract.) Many English teachers here are not teachers, that's just facts. People have written interesting articles about how this has affected English education in Korea and how the job market has changed and remained the same over the years. As I've only been here a few months, I have little right to wax whimsical on these points.

From what I hear from the veterans, one major thing has changed and one major thing as stayed the same. The salary has not risen with the cost of inflation and living; my predecessors 10 years ago made what I make today. There also, the grizzled vets claim, are a lot less knuckleheads over here to drink and be douches and show up at school hungover. Some veterans tell me teaching has gotten better, others tell me worse. It does feel, somedays, with all of the farewell parties that a lot of people are abandoning ship. But there are always newbies to replace them, to take over their contracts and apartments just a few days after the 'garage sale' where I can pick up cooking pots and chairs on the cheap. 

"There will always be jobs in Korea," someone said to me before I came here. But until you step into your first school, you may not be wise enough to figure out which ones to avoid. It's a learning experience, one that you pick up fast.

My school is a business, there's no two ways about it. When I asked what was expected of me, I was told just to make sure the kids are happy and have fun. Whether they learn anything takes a back seat, was the message I really took from that. Again, this is a private kindergarten, and there's no curriculum. The textbooks I was given were selected without any real guidelines, and from these I make my lesson plans. But, really, in the back of my mind, I'm less of a teacher and more of person for students to practice speaking with. The way I see it, my real duty is to foster an enjoyment of learning English (or at least not fuel a hatred of it) and give the students practice with talking to a native English speaker. They'll need it; for the rest of their education, emphasis will be on grammar and reading, much to the detriment of their oral abilities.

My job could be a lot worse; as I said before, I know people who have worked insane hours and been cheated out of pay. I really, truly, only have stressful days from Monday to Wednesday, then Thursday and Friday are something of a cakewalk. My coworkers are great (even though I'm pretty sure they're sick of me forgetting textbooks and props in their classrooms) and my boss is trustworthy. For a first time job in Korea, I did alright.

Opening up a bank account in South Korea

Let me tell you why I'm drinking beer out of a measuring cup at 5:30 PM so you don't judge me if you see misspelled status updates later.

Firstly, I'm out of clean glasses.

Secondly, I have had the worst luck with opening a bank account in South Korea.

I assume that not everyone has had this type of experience because the entire peninsula would have been burned to the ground if even fifty percent of the population is as frustrated as I feel right now. For the first time in a long time, I have money to pay off credit card and student debt. Getting those moneys into my USA bank account is proving difficult.

Did you see Star Trek, when Kirk and Spock were seperated by a pane of glass? So close, so raw and open, but ultimately unable to bridge that final distance, reach out and touch?

Those are my bank accounts. I'm not sure which one is Kirk and which one is Spock. I'll let you, the reader, decide.

Let's break down the basics.

HOW TO BANK IN KOREA

(I'm with Citibank at the moment, so your mileage may vary. Also? I do not recommend it.)

1. If at all possible, get a Korean to go with you. If that's not possible, get their phone number so the confused bank attendant can call and harass them for sending you by yourself. If you lack the phone number, for god's sake, have them pin a hand-written note to your mittens saying that you want to open an account and any other possible thing you could need.

2. Banks are only open on weekdays 9am-4pm as a general rule. What if you work 8-6? Your boss will have to let you have an hour or two off. 'But,' you say, 'that's kind of crazy!' Yeah? Well you're preaching to the choir. And this is coming from an American who was used to bitching about banks closing at 6PM on the weekdays and only being open for four hours on Saturday. You know what I'm going to do as soon as I get back to America? Go to every damned bank I can on a Saturday and roll around on the floor like a cat on a new sweater.

3. Items you need to take with you to open a bank account; your address (use your school's), your foreigner card, your passport, cash money as an initial deposit (I paid 10k won/$10, take 50k to be safe), a good luck charm, and a phone number. 'But, Kris,' you say to me with your big doe-eyes. 'I don't have a cell phone yet because I don't have a bank account to use to sign up for a phone contract!' Yeah? That right? Tough. Use your school's phone number or a Korean friend's. And don't forget it, because you're going to need to change it later once you get your own phone.*

4. So you go to the bank, fill out a stupid amount of paperwork, write down your passport and ARC numbers several times, enter your new pin number into a key pad and get your debit card. Sweet! All set! Unless if you want internet banking, you better sit your butt back down in that chair. If you want internet banking, you have to ask for it at the bank branch. 'But,' you wimper, a single tear rolling down your cheek, 'in America I just sign up for it on the internet whenever I want and don't have to--' ablahblahblah, can it. We're in Korea now.

Back in the olden days (1990s) someone somewhere in Korea saw online commerce taking off and, with the best of intentions, decreed that shoppers should feel as safe buying fabrige eggs online as they do in the Fabrige Egg and Sad Sweaters Emporium down the street. That means that, these days, doing banking and commerce online in Korea--while totally safe--is, for us Americans who are used to throwing around credit card numbers willy nilly, an utter pain in the ass. Don't get me wrong, my Korean checking account is locked down better than Fort Knox. Unfortunately it's just locked down from me, too. And while I'm not the most savory of characters, I do deserve to get my grubby little hands on my own cash.

5. Once you ask for your internet banking, you are given a set number of days to actually create the account. After this window closes, you'll have to go into the branch again. Easy, right? Are you out of your fucking mind? You need to have a computer running IE or install a special security program to use Chrome and maybe some other browsers that I've forgotten after my third measuring cup of beer. You're also given, at the branch, a little card that looks like a decoder ring with sets of numbers. Don't you ever. EVER. EV. ER. Lose this thing. You'll need it as an extra security measure and will be asked to enter random numbers from it when making transactions, setting up your account, and probably using the bathroom at certain locations. Someone? Is going to break into your apartment at night, shake you awake, tie you to a chair, slap you, and ask for those numbers. Additionally, you have to install a security certificate onto your computer to use it as the one and only computer that can access your account after you go through the aforementioned blood ritual. Or, put it on a USB and tote it around with you to use on whatever computer you please. I think.

6. 'How about mobile banking,' you ask me, chin trembling like a newborn rabbit. Seriously? SERIOUSLY? After all that crap you just went through, you want to try and do it AGAIN on a smaller object that is deliciously aerodynamic and manages to find any diamond-hard surface within 100 yards? Fine man, fucking do it, I don't even care. It's not just downloading the app and putting in your web login ID. I don't think. And they can't do it at the branch. I was told. Honestly? I have no clue.

7. Once you get your shit together, you can use ATMs to transfer money directly to bank accounts. (And as soon as you get your debit card, you can transfer money to Korean accounts to pay bills. People don't really write checks here.) It's nice. They have an 'English' button. If you got through the mobile and internet banking steps, the ATM is going to be childsplay.

8. Just a note... Americans, the SWIFT number is NOT the same as the routing numbers we know and love and use. You'll have to contact your US bank to find that shit if you want to transfer money internationally.

9. Lastly, Citibank has global transfers. You, in theory, can transfer your money for free between two international Citibank accounts. Unless your Korean branch insists that your American account doesn't exist. Even after you log into your American account, and call the service rep in Dallas. This? This is why I'm... six cups of beer deep before 7PM. If you have an American Citibank account, the only thing I can suggest is to transfer a dollar to your Korean account and hope they can look up the info and help you out via reverse money osmosis because I am frankly out of ideas beyond drinking.

In any case, once you get it all set up, the Korean banking system is efficient and nice. English-speaking hotlines are available and will be given to you and enthusiastically highlighted by the banker who does not want to deal with your waygook ass again. And if you are someone who doesn't have student and credit card loans to pay back home and can just keep your money in the Korean account... you'll probably have a lot less stress in your life when you arrive here.


*The bank will send SMS confirmation numbers to you to send money overseas. This is why you need to change that phone number. And they hide parts of the old number from you, so you better recall all the digits. Also, your name on your bank account better match the one on your phone contract. 'But, Kris,' you sigh, rolling your eyes, 'why would my name change? I'm not a scam artist or Cher.' First off? Shut your mouth. Second? In America, some of us have middle names. In America, middle names are like second cousins. You know you have them, but you only remember them once in a while. My middle name is on my passport but not my credit card. My middle initial is on my diploma. Guess what--this is really fucking confusing to people in some other countries, namely South Korea. (And franky it should be because it's my name like why would I possibly be so durrrrrrrrr about it unless I was from a country where middle initials and names were slapped onto presidential candidates to make them sound classy is where I'm guessing we got these from, etc.) So you decide the moment you get off the plane that you are going to ALWAYS follow whatever it says on your passport and I don't even care if your middle name is 'Sunbeam' just go with it and save yourself the trouble.



Frankly, when it's all said and done, Korea's way of banking is probably safer and, in the long term, better. You know what else is? Exercise. And that sucks at first too. Also, watching curling. Then you get really into it.

I'm done. 

Yes, Mom, I'm updating my blog

I know, from personal experience and a strange article I read during a visit to the dentist's office, that time speeds up the older you get. Or at least your perception of time changes because something chemical or physical or magical happens in your brain and--poof! Suddenly a two hour-long car ride doesn't seem like the eternity it did when you were a child. ("Two hours to Philadelphia? Oh my god we are NEVER going to be there EVER and the zoo is going to be CLOSED and we are going to be DEAD by the time we get there!" *Actual thoughts every time I took an elementary school field trip.*)

I've been in South Korea for a month and some change. It feels like I just got here yesterday. Someone asked me what I've been doing with my time not spent at work, and I'm pretty sure my expression was blank, then mildly confused, then horrified because for the first time in my life I thought, 'Where did the time go?' And not in the way you think, 'Oh where did the time go!' when you're supposed to be studying for a final exam in college and you rent out a meeting room in the computer lab and three hours later all you and your 'study partners' (read: enablers) have managed to do is somehow hook up the massive projector so you can play Robot Unicorn Attack with surround sound. I mean that 'Where did the time go?' that your mom says when you're stepping on the bus to kindergarten or high school and you're like, "MmmmmmoooOOMMMM," and you roll your eyes but believe me there's a day when it hits you. And it's probably not as big as the one your parents get when you get your drivers license or first mug shot (hey man, stuff happens) but you get it, you get that and you're just like, "Shit. Where did the time go?"

The world spins madly on while you have a dumb expression on your face, trying to remember what you did last weekend.

Everyone has a different reaction to moving to new country to live for an extended period of time. Some people are excited, some people are nervous, others are catatonic with a dose of what did I just do. The best cure for that, I've found, is indulging in looking up plane ticket prices back home, and then clicking on the next internet tab showing your empty bank account. The feeling, for me, passed in two weeks and I'm now looking between tickets to new places and my-still--woefully inadequate bank account. I truly have no idea how long I want to stay in Korea past my year-long contract, but I do know that I can only take it one day at a time.

I came to South Korea, like many others, because I didn't know what else to do. I did, however, know that 1) I wanted to travel again in Asia, as there's still a lot left to explore. 2) I'm pretty good at teaching, and actually enjoy it--but I'm not certified to teach in the USA. 3) My broke ass has no money, and it is time to start saving again.

Typically, a first-time teacher in South Korea gets a free round-trip plane ticket, free housing, half of their medical insurance paid for, and a monthly salary of about $1,900. (And if the school offers you anything less, I implore you not to sign the contract.) Depending on where you stay and where you've come from, the cost of living is cheaper for most things. For postgrads with few job prospects at home, backpackers who need to fill up their bank accounts before taking off again, and a slew of other lovable misfits, South Korea is a cash-grab and a steppingstone. For others it's a place to settle down and build a life, which is something I often forget until I encounter an expat who has been in Korea since 1995 and smiles when my jaw hits the floor. All in all it's a comfortable existence, and many people who come here intending to stay one year will stay several more than they had expected.

That said, there are hurdles, make no mistake of it.

For the first month, you are a ghost participating in a careful dance of getting your new life together. Playing 'The SIMS' will have prepared you for this. 

Ultimately, your first goal is to get a bank account. Without this, you cannot sign up for internet, transfer money back home, or purchase a cell phone. In order to get a bank account, you need your Alien Registration Card (ARC). In order to get this, you have to apply at immigration. In order to do this, you have to get a health check at the local hospital. All in all the process, in theory, should take three weeks. But, like I said, there are hurdles, and they are many. Banks are not open on weekends, and during the weekdays they operate from 9ish-4PM, depending on the bank. Rather inconvenient for people who work 9:30-5:30.  At the hospital, immigration office, bank, and cell phone store, you're gambling with 50/50 odds that someone will speak English. (Luckily there's a 99% chance that whomever is at the desk will try with all their might to assist you courteously and professionally.) Some schools will hold your hand during this process, others give you guidelines and a pat on the back for good luck. My end goal of getting a cell phone took 35 days with a moderate amount of support from my school and, I'm happy to report, I lost no appendages in the process.

Once you have a cell phone, you are a functioning member of Korean society. Life becomes easier. You can have things delivered, sign up for internet banking, and get chicken and beer delivered to your apartment. There are multitudes of apps to give you the bus schedules and subway maps for Korea's amazing public transportation system. There is a tourist phone number to call to ask for help in English, and, I believe, Japanese and Chinese as well. In fact, Seoul is one of the most tourist-friendly cities I've ever been to. Girls in red outfits are poised at many subways and attractions to assist you, complete with aprons full of brochures and maps in your native language. There is a special branch of the police force reserved for tourists. Many signs and announcements are made in Korean, followed by English and Mandarin and Japanese. Most employees in major tourist areas speak basic English, even if they're a little shy about striking up a conversation.

Life gets easier after the first month. 

Looking back on my year spent in China, I really didn't know that many people considering I was one in a pot of a billion. I knew maybe 15 individuals personally, which I can admit is not an impressive number. But most of them I consider family since we rode the school bus together each day, made Thanksgiving dinner together, took turns getting one another's drunken carcasses back to the dorms, and shared everything from books and lesson plans to valuable DayQuil rationed out over the year. I was given new friends on a silver platter the day I showed up to China, I being the last one to arrive in a haze of jet lag and confusion.

That said, in Korea, I'm the only foreigner at my school. My Korean co-teachers are lovely people, albeit lovely people with families and second jobs, commitments after work that make it difficult to go out and grab a beer. Luckily there are hundreds of expat clubs on FaceBook and forums. I've been to a weekly knitting club, bi-weekly writing club, monthly dinner club, and probably other excursions that I'm forgetting. It's not uncommon for expats to post that they have a day off and are going hiking--who'd like to join me? Doesn't matter if we've never met, get your boots on and let's go. It reminds me of college, in a sense, and I'm having a good time trying out new things and meeting new people in a way I never took advantage of while at university. 

There is, however, transient sort of feeling to the friendships you make. Teaching contracts begin and end at different times of the year, the military bases ship people back and forth whenever they please, and many people are just here 'on business' and are gone the next week. People are truly in your life for a finite amount of time--maybe just this once--and you send them on your way with a smile, because that'll probably be you in a few months anyway. At the center of this, individuals who have lived in Korea for a few years and have an outgoing personality become bastions of meet-ups, unofficial guides and welcome wagons. They are the big, friendly fish in the pond, and without them the expat community would likely not be as tightly knit as it is. Bless those who came before me, because they've been there, done that, and opened up bars and restaurants that serve me turkey on Thanksgiving. 

It takes more work to find friends if you're the only expat at your job, but it can be done with a little research, a pleasant smile, and a firm stare with a whisper, "We are going to be friends now, whether you like it or not."

Don't get me wrong; you still meet your share of assholes and weirdoes, but for the most part they're overshadowed by the kindness of strangers who you'll soon be going hiking with and drinking beers on the top of a mountain.

Life's pretty good, and I can see why people stick around in South Korea. When I was still in America, a friend in Korea wrote that she loved living a dynamic life. That's exactly what I feel like I'm experiencing here, but only 50% of that is the nation itself. The rest of it comes from you and what you make of it. At the very least, when I think, 'Where did the time go?' in disbelief, I'll be able to do so fodnly as well.